


wardrobe malfunction

by smalltits



Category: Big Hero 6 (2014)
Genre: Desperation, Gen, Humiliation, Omorashi, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-10 21:34:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11700324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smalltits/pseuds/smalltits
Summary: Wasabi's super-suit malfunctions, and he needs Gogo to help fix it. Wasabi needs to pee.





	wardrobe malfunction

**Author's Note:**

> file name: "and why the FUCK is there a squirrel"

With a flash of blue light, a plasma blade retracted. Both blades had been jammed for a while now, and with all of Gogo’s attempt to fix the malfunction, the two superhero students were glad to see something had gave. “Did you get it?” He asked, almost frantically. Gogo continued to scrutinize and tinker with his electronic weaponry’s series of circuit boards, wires, and other intricate power components. “Almost. They were supposed to retract together,” she explained, “So, as long as it’s still jamming, it could extend randomly and stab you in the stomach or some shit.”

“...so? Can’t you fix it later?” Wasabi fidgeted at the idea of being in Gogo’s workspace for possibly another hour, let alone maybe even ten more minutes. He had come to his fellow rookie superhero after practicing sword fighting styles and techniques on a late night due to a wardrobe malfunction of sorts - his two razor-sharp plasma swords were refusing to re-sheath themselves. Thanks to their creator’s habits of constructing systems that only eccentric teenagers with genius-level IQs can understand, having the blades perform such a simple action was taking forever.

Or at least an hour - the uncomfortable amount of time Wasabi had been standing while his friend loaded up Hiro’s blueprints and poorly-made instruction manuals, trying to make sense of the complex mechanical system. “It’s twelve-thirty. I’m tired, but think we both like you better when you’re not skewered with plasma,” the shorter girl grumbled, “You should be wide awake - watched you down that jug of green tea quicker than anything.”

She wasn’t wrong - he had topped off all the drink he had brought that morning, though he didn’t even remember how long ago that happened. It was late, so his mind was foggy, but simultaneously he was wide awake, caffeine moving through his bloodstream and keeping him energized. Unfortunately, the whole ‘quart of green tea plus standing around for an hour’ thing meant another problem he had to deal with. His bladder had filled up quickly, or so he imagined it did over the course of an hour, the growing pressure in his groin progressively becoming all he could think about - not Gogo telling him to stop squirming more and more often now, and not how their short bursts of conversation always included him asking about how much longer it’ll be.

Wasabi mulled over his worsening state just before feeling a little more liquid hit his bladder, making him wince and momentarily begin to reach for his crotch to hold himself. That would make the discomfort so much easier to bear, right? But there was the chance he could stab himself in the dick and pass out from the pain and blood loss immediately, which was not good. Fretting, he started bouncing his knee lightly in response to the added pressure, trying to distract himself.

“Hey, if you don’t stop moving, I’ll skewer you,” the power frame trembled along with her paranoid friend’s body. Gogo resorted to grabbing Wasabi’s shoulder to steady him, which he eventually did respond to. “You can’t just tell someone to stop moving!” he flared, suddenly, “It’s just a natural bodily reaction to…drinking tea.” Wasabi didn’t finish his sentence immediately, awkwardly becoming more cautious of his word in an instant. A full bladder. He obviously wanted his little problem fixed as soon as possible, but there was something about actually admitting it to Gogo made him blush.

“Whatever,” she sighed, shrugging off the interaction and momentarily returning to the task at hand. Only another handful of minutes passed by before Gogo noticed her lab-mate crossing his legs where he stood, with a pained look she assumed was from lack of sleep - not from a full bladder, to her knowledge. She deduced that Wasabi was getting uncomfortable from standing for so long - and speaking of uncomfortable, having him stand like that had her working at a very awkward angle.

“Hey,” she blurted, catching his attention, “Let’s switch to working over the workbench. You look like your legs are about to give, and I don’t want an impaled physicist on my floor, so…” Gogo started moving her tools over to a rusted, shoddy looking work-table - Wasabi thought about how he had always bartered with her to replace it, to his chagrin. No matter now, though - if it meant she could work quicker and let his other hand turn into not-sword, he was happy to do it.

Wasabi momentarily watched Gogo grudgingly haul her belongings over to the surface before realizing a chair presented an opportunity for him to cross his legs without letting her see - one that he wanted to seize immediately. He walked - more of an earnest attempt not to hobble over than anything - to where the similarly shoddy, shitty chair lay, and sat down clumsily, making sure to not slice anything with his plasma blades.

“Let me - wait, don’t!” Gogo cried, dropping the circuitry and tools clenched to her chest. The only motivation she had for replacing the shitty work-table was getting rid of one of the stools that came with it - a leg was broken, which she learned after trying to sit on it and dropping a fragile, semester-long project. Of course, Wasabi didn’t realize this, and cursed as he fell on his back onto hard tile floor. His vigilant nature persisted through the pain and head throbbing, not letting himself draw attention away from the pressure in his groin. Unfortunately, his mind’s will was not as strong his body’s - he lost control of his muscles momentarily, which was all the invitation his bladder needed to release. Gogo was watching him at the acute moment he quickly clenched his legs together again, trying to save himself.

Wasabi disregarded the possibility of stabbing himself and grabbed at himself with his one un-bladed hand, trying to stop the accident. Unfortunately, it was no use, and Wasabi’s voice cracked pathetically when it became obvious what was happening. A wet patch grew around his hand and the germaphobe was quick to retract his hand and groan in humiliation. Wanting to react further, he shifted forward quickly - but there was no use in stopping his aching bladder from emptying. The relief he felt was, embarrassingly, almost enough to override his feelings of shame and disgust.

When the stream finally ended, those feelings finally jerked him back to reality. He realized that, indeed, the only other person in Gogo’s tiny workspace was staring at him. Gogo’s typical blank stare was one of moderate shock now. He felt filthy, and he noticed tears from either relief or embarrassment were running down his face. Wasabi sniffled, humiliated, but still muttered in defiance, “D-don’t look at me…”

As he started to stand up, he unintentionally dipped the sheath of his plasma blade in the embarrassingly large puddle of urine. Wasabi yelped and jerked as the circuitry of the sword shorted out, making a loud popping sound as sparks erupted from the base. After the shock wore off, he realized he had basically broken the weapon - and that the blade had finally retracted.

A short moment passed and Gogo remarked, “Well, you fixed it.”


End file.
